


Ineffable Husbands drabbles

by anathemadebice



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Human, Character Death, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Light Angst, Miscommunication, Multi, Unresolved Romantic Tension, War, anemia (mentioned), for like two seconds, just two idiots being idiots, well for a bit, will update tags as needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-19 13:04:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19974529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathemadebice/pseuds/anathemadebice
Summary: Just some (supposed to be) short drabbles featuring mostly the husbands, but not exclusively!





	1. ''aziraphale feeling like he can't be with crowley because they're too different and he might not like him the same way''

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i went the angst route i'm so sorry

Demons can’t love.  
Ask anyone at all, and they will agree with you. Ask Heaven, and they will definitely agree. Ask a demon, and… Well, they will gut you like a fish for even suggesting they may be able to.  
So maybe don’t ask a demon.  
Aziraphale is very much aware of this, and yet, he hopes.  
Contrary to popular belief, Aziraphale is not stupid, nor does he lack so much self-awareness to not know that he is in love. That doesn’t mean he has to acknowledge it, though.  
After all, it’s not like anything would come out of it. Aziraphale doesn’t think Crowley would be mean about it, no, Crowley isn’t cruel.  
But Crowley IS a demon, and demons can’t love, so there really isn’t a scenario where Crowley confesses the feelings are mutual and they drive off into the sunset at a reasonable speed.  
And yet, even though Aziraphale knows this, he hopes. Because he can sense love, and he’s not daft enough to not sense the little waves of it coming from Crowley every now and then.  
But of course, Crowley did love things, Aziraphale knows that (he never really was like the other demons, though, was he?) so really, thinking, hoping, that the love he felt coming from the demon could be for…  
Well, it did not do to think about.  
It was probably wishful thinking, anyways. He was seeing what he wanted to see.  
After all, why would Crowley love him?  
What was there to love?


	2. ''crowley getting sick but he's too shy to let aziraphale know and help him''

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what it says on the tin (just fluff honestly)

Crowley had cancelled their date.   
Again. For the fourth time in a row.   
Honestly, while the third time hurt Aziraphale, now he was just pissed. Really, they were adults. If Crowley didn’t want to see him anymore, couldn’t he just say so? Didn’t Aziraphale deserve just a bit of respect?  
So that’s why Aziraphale was currently stomping angrily towards the door of a very nice flat in a very nice part of London.   
He stopped himself in time and knocked politely, if still a bit too hard.   
And all the fight abandoned him as a squinting, bleary-eyed Crowley opened the door.   
"...'Ziraphale?"   
Aziraphale just stared. And then stared some more.  
"My dear, you look like shit"  
Crowley frowned softly, like he knew he should be mad but wasn't quite sure why. He did look terrible, though.   
He was wearing one of Aziraphale's jumpers, a thick woollen monstrosity Crowley would usually not be caught dead in, yet he was still shivering. He had deep, almost purple bags under his eyes, and he was standing up only by sheer force of will, it seemed, if how wobbly he was meant anything.   
"Crowley, love, what happened to you?" Aziraphale cooed softly, anger gone as fast as it came as he put his lips to his boyfriend's forehead, trying to see if he had a temperature.  
Crowley pretty much melted onto him, freezing hands immediately going under his shirt.   
Aziraphale hissed, but didn't stop him, wrapping his arms around Crowley and taking them both inside, struggling to close the door with a 6'1 man wrapped around him, and shuffled them over to the sofa, where he carefully dropped his already whining boyfriend.   
"Dearest-" he started, cutting himself off when he saw Crowley's face scrunch up in pain, wobbly hands flying to his temples.   
"Oh" Aziraphale whispered "oh dear, it's your anemia, isn't it? It's giving you migraines again, isn't it?"  
Crowley nodded slowly.  
"Can't sleep. Hurts. Too cold"  
"Oh, Crowley… Why didn't you just tell me?"  
"Didn't… Wanna be a bother"   
Of course that was his answer, Aziraphale thought. Of course that was his logic. No use trying to fight with him now, he was barely coherent as it was.   
Aziraphale put a blanket around Crowley, pecked his lips, and took off towards the kitchen, unheeding the half hearted protests of his stupid, stupid boyfriend.   
When he came back, with a bowl of warm soup, water, and some paracetamol, he found Crowley looking at the ceiling, unfocused but shivering slightly less.   
"Come on, my dear, drink these, take this tablet, and then we can go to bed, ok? I will read to you if you want me to, how does that sound?"  
Crowley, after sitting up with Aziraphale's help, pointed to the bowl, and squinted harder.  
"...wossat?"  
"Chicken and spinach. Eat up." Aziraphale answered while he grabbed the pair of sunglasses from the table and softly put them on Crowley's face.   
(This had puzzled Aziraphale for quite a bit. Turns out Crowley was blind as a bat, but he refused to "look like a nerd" so obviously, prescription sunglasses had been the way to go. When Aziraphale arched an eyebrow from behind his own glasses, the other man had rushed to explain how much he loved them on Aziraphale in a panic)  
Crowley ate so fast Aziraphale kept looking on worriedly, half expecting him to choke at any moment. After swallowing a couple of tablets and drinking his water, he looked up at Zira with eyes slightly more tired, slightly more unfocused, but infinitely more hopeful.  
"...Stay?"   
Aziraphale's heart stopped for a second, as he smiled fondly at this ridiculous man he seemed to have fallen for.   
"Of course I will, my dear. Come on, let's go to bed"  
When they got there, he tried to maneuver Crowley into a pair of pajamas. He had to give up, as the redhead refused to let go of the jumper he was wearing.   
"Ok then, that's fine, do you want me to read to you?" he said, making to leave the bed he had put Crowley on.  
He frowned, tightening his grip on Aziraphale and burying his face on Aziraphale's neck.   
"No. Stay. Cuddles"  
Aziraphale, not one to argue with things that made sense, just tucked them in and adjusted Crowley and himself so they would be comfortable.  
As he started running his hand through the deep red hair, any tension left in Crowley's body vanished, making him go completely pliant and boneless against Aziraphale. 

For a little while, they just stayed like that, Crowley's once again uncovered eyes blinking more and more slowly, until finally, they fell shut and didn't open again.   
As Aziraphale resigned himself for a nap, Crowley mumbled something.   
"What was that, love?" he whispered, just in case his boyfriend was just talking in his sleep.  
"Love you… 'Ngel…"  
Aziraphale smiled softly, pressing his lips against Crowley's temple.   
"I love you too, my dearest. I really do"


	3. ‘’So I think we’ve all accepted that I’m going to die at this point, but since you’re a historian now can you at least make my death really cool?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i was gonna make this not soft but i am a disgusting little fluff monster so

They weren’t supposed to end up in a war.  
Really, they were supposed to intervene, but in a more… Behind the scenes sort of way. Aziraphale was writing a book, for someone’s sake! He couldn’t afford to discorporate now, Heaven would take forever to give him a new body, and someone may find his book and try to continue it. They may fill it with inaccuracies… Oh, he dreads just to think about it.  
He had said as much to Crowley, in an attempt at getting the demon to stand back and not take part in the war. But Crowley, for all he loathed violence (whether he admitted it or not) had seemed weirdly adamant on fighting this one (the talk of the village folk of sending children to the battlefront due to shortage of hands had nothing to do with that, of course, Crowley was just doing his demonic work, fighting on the side of evil and all that).  
And Aziraphale could hardly stand back when the forces of evil were taking part in the war, really, so he wielded a sword and reluctantly joined the ‘’good’’ side (honestly, if you asked Aziraphale, well… He wouldn’t admit it, of course, but he was of the opinion that wars didn’t really have good sides, everyone just murdering each other left and right).  
It had been days, with few breaks to rest and take care of their dead, when it happened.  
Aziraphale could sense Crowley’s presence, of course, he knew the demon was around (why else would he stick around?) but he hadn’t seen him yet.  
And he didn’t get to see him now, either, not before Aziraphale felt what seemed like an attack but was actually a very subtle nudge out of the way of the very well placed jab of a sword that would have ended deep inside Aziraphale’s chest had it not been for Crowley’s impeccable timing.  
After swiftly taking care of the human, Aziraphale turned around to find… Nothing? Had Crowley just gone?  
A low whine at Aziraphale’s feet brought his attention to the ground, where a six foot something demon had curled himself into a tiny, apparently boneless, ball, clutching his abdomen.  
His copiously bleeding abdomen.  
Aziraphale startled, fake animosity towards the demon forgotten in favour of dropping to his knees before him, hands flitting uselessly over the lanky body now coiled tightly in pain.  
‘’Crowley!! Are you ok?’’  
‘’Someone, I keep forgetting how much getting stabbed hurts… Yes, Angel, I’m fucking peachy, why do you ask?’’  
Aziraphale’s hands instinctively went to the wound, angelic grace already shining on his fingertips, when one of Crowley’s blood covered hands shot out and grabbed his wrist, wide yellow eyes looking at him in bewilderment.  
‘’What… Are you doing? You can’t use miracles right now. Especially not for… That’’  
‘’Oh, right. Of course, my dear. Apologies’’  
Crowley gave him a funny look, subconsciously tightening his grip on the angel’s wrist before seemingly remembering himself and letting go, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.  
‘’Of course you would.. As if…’’ he chuckled again, sounding a bit more choked up this time ‘’Look, it’s no big deal, I’ll get a new body in a century, at most’’  
‘’Won’t your superiors be upset, though?’’  
Crowley’s face scrunched up for a second, before the small amused grin came back, if a little tighter than before.  
‘’I’ll just get a good screaming at, Angel, nothing I’m not used to. I will be fine’’  
Aziraphale frowned, unsure but unwilling to fight the demon while he was bleeding out on his lap (and when had that happened, by the way? Aziraphale couldn’t recall moving Crowley at all, but there he was, the angel’s fingers somehow having a mind of its own and soothingly tracing shapes on the other’s side).  
‘’If you’re sure, my dear’’  
‘’So listen, I think we’ve accepted that I’m going to die at this point, but since you’re a historian now can you at least make my death really cool?”  
Aziraphale let out a surprised chuckle, staring at Crowley with mirth shining in his eyes, effectively kicking out the guilt and sympathy that had been swimming there before.  
‘’Oh? Cooler than saving an angel’s life?’’  
Crowley gestured half-heartedly, a weak protest starting to form on his lips.  
Aziraphale took pity on him.  
‘’Shall I say you died massacring a group of innocent humans, while the forces of good stood by in silent horror?’’  
‘’Bit dark, Angel, don’t you think?’’ Crowley snorted, looking amused at his antics.  
‘’Well, what do you suggest then, my dear?’’  
‘’Tell them… Oh! If my side wins the war, which it will’’ he added a wink at Aziraphale’s disapproving glare ‘’write about my great betrayals and overall lack of morality and how that was what caused both our victory, and my demise.’’  
Aziraphale, with a laugh that someone wiser and with less self preservation instincts than the narrator would describe as fond, nodded in silent agreement, finding indulging in the demon’s requests a tad too easy, but not concerning himself with it.  
Crowley’s hand found his wrist again, giving a weak but thankful squeeze, before his grip loosened and his head lolled down against Aziraphale’s chest.  
The angel started a little, arms tightening minutely around him, blue eyes trying to meet yellow ones, now glassy from blood loss.  
‘’See you in a century, angel’’ Crowley whispered, small smile looking more warm and open than they usually did.  
Aziraphale’s face felt inexplicably warm, but he smiled back, softly and (not that he would ever admit to it) adoringly.  
‘’See you in a century, my dearest’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, constructive criticism is very appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is always very appreciated!  
> Feel free to follow me on twitter @anathemadebice for... Some of this, on occasion.


End file.
